


Light

by CapturetheFinnick



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 01:35:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11303019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapturetheFinnick/pseuds/CapturetheFinnick
Summary: Every day Willow goes to the bookshop, and every day Tara is there, under the hand-painted sign; Fantasy. AKA The one where Willow and Tara meet in a bookshop, Tara is a struggling writer and Willow is an editor and together they try and make it. Continued oneshots of their relationship together. AU. Willow/Tara. Fluff.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I actually have never written Buffy fanfic before, but this is what got me back into writing fic recently (I've been writing fic for a few years on other sities) so I thought I'd upload it here.

She was back again. The girl in row fifteen, long blonde hair tucked delicately behind one ear, eyes glancing over the books. _Fantasy._ The sign read above her, moving towards _Science Fiction._ It wasn’t as if Willow came here just to look for her, just to stare at her. She came here the same as she had most nights for the past year and a half. It gave her perspective after a busy day at the office. The rush and the push and the hectic nature of papers and ink and printers and coffee left her jittery. And here she felt calm, amongst books. The smell of the pages and the colours that seemed to fade one into the next into the next.  Her final stop on her way home, the corners rounded out, warm; a shelter. The rain lashing against the window pane, the paper birds shaking on their strings, their paper wings flapping with each opening of the door, a tiny bell, a flutter. The sound of the rain on the roof was a like a blanket, and reminded Willow of home, somewhere far from there. _A small girl in a big city._ She needed a small piece of home. She moved her feet around the shop with a deliberate nature, always clockwise (a movement the blonde girl echoed.)

The girl had started coming in autumn, when the frost would cling to the front window, a small silver cobweb in the upper corner. Her red scarf wrapped around her neck, covering her lower face and tucking into her brown trench coat. Her hair was usually in a bun, but as the cold winter evenings had started to mellow out (and the girl was still coming) she had started letting her hair down, the soft strands falling against her face (not that these were the kind of details Willow should be noticing.)

That day the sun was out, for what seemed like the first time all year, forming a small pool of light in the front window, the dust dancing along the shelves. Its touch seemed delicate, tentative, but hopeful. The air outside was cold but there was an edge that hadn’t been there last week, a kind of promise for something to come. Willow pulled her woollen hat over her ears as she entered the shop, the wind nipping at the tops of her ears. _The girl was already here._ That was new. Her face looked thoughtful as she perused over the books. Willow knew the routine (and only felt slightly guilty about it.) She would look for fifteen minutes, settle on one, then pull out her notebook, make a note of the title and leave. Unless it was Friday, on a Friday she would get out her notebook scratch a title off the list and buy it, her hands twitching with the strings on her hand-stitched bag, her hair falling across her face. For not the first time Willow felt aware that her knowledge of this routine, and the comfort it brought her in seeing it day in day out was probably more than a little odd. But just like the light pooling in the front window it spoke of hope, of _some-day,_ and Willow had decided that she could allow herself that. Sometimes she needed it.

She settled on a book, nudging her tote bag back on to her shoulder, aware of the blonde girl’s presence on row fifteen, beneath the hand-painted sign. _Fantasy._

“Settled on one today did we?” Abigail smiled at her, scanning the book, her charmed bracelet tinkling against the till.

“Yeah, finally” Willow blushed, “sometimes it feels like it’s going to take all day” she blushed.

“I know the feeling, still sometimes it’s just nice to look, take your time you know.” Abigail said, placing the book into a bag, inscribed with the quote _Words cannot do justice to the pleasure of a good bookshop. Ironically._

“I know the feeling, I use this place as an escape way too often.” Willow smiled, taking her change and the receipt.

“As good a place as any,” Abby paused, her head turning around as she subtly checked no one else was about. All seemed clear as she leant her forearms against the counter, her voice lowering an octave “how’s work been recently, George still being a pain?”

Willow shifted her bag into the other hand, “same old, same old you know, deadlines,” Willow paused, “March is a bit of a quieter period though”

“Complete opposite in here,” Abby said, “winter seems to bring people in, maybe the warmth more than anything”

“It certainly is cosy” Willow smiled, “otherwise why would I be here so often?”

Abby laughed, “Oh I don’t know I was thinking a certain blonde haired girl might have something to do with it” she said, gesturing towards the row 15, under the hand-painted sign. _Fantasy._

Willow blushed bright red, quickly turning to see if the girl had noticed. “Abby!”

“What just saying what’s on everyone’s mind”

Willow rolled her eyes, “Abby there’s only you here”

“Still, gotta make a move one day.”

“Safe to say that day is firmly in the future” Willow said with a stern look.

“Tomorrow’s always a day away”

“Exactly.” Willow shook her head, “And that’s when I’ll see you, tomorrow.”

“I’m here nine till five” Abby laughed,

“Don’t I know it, see you.” Willow said, the red still not quite faded from her cheeks.

“See you.”

The cars rushed past as Willow walked home, the pavement not quite as icy as it had been in weeks past, the sun pushing through causing those trusty sun visors to be pulled down, the de-icing spray lying redundant on the passenger seat, or rolling around the boot that you’ve been meaning to clean out. Willow shifted her bag so it was firmly on her shoulder. Sometimes she couldn’t believe Abby, to talk about the girl when she was right there. Her relationship with Abby was confined strictly to the walls of that bookshop, the warmth of the shelves and a smile (and occasionally a mug of coffee when _the boss_ was away). Still it was a relationship Willow cherished, and relied upon. Part of her routine.

 _Up at 6, let the cat out, a bowl of cereal and a piece of toast, water for the plant that lived on the windowsill, a mug of coffee with the weather report and a coat, hands in pockets and earphones in ears, 3.5 songs in the walk to the office, then the office radio, lunch at twelve, sometimes with Sandy sometimes with just the view from the office window, more papers, more work and then the clock hand on four, then the coat again and the bookshop and Abby with the smile (and the blonde girl in row fifteen under the hand-painted sign. Fantasy. (Edging into Science Fiction.) then home, let the cat out again, a blanket and a mug of green tea, a book or a tv show, the cat on her lap. And then bed_.

When you lived alone you need routine (or maybe Willow did). But she couldn’t help but notice how routine grew old, she sometimes missed the old days of university, and the difference of every day. When the same routine comes day in and day out, the days pass slow but the weeks pass fast. And before she had even had time to notice, she was sat on the patio at her parent’s house talking about how she’d been at the job a year and eating cheese-and-onion sandwiches, squinting at the first rays of sun. _An adult._ Willow moved her hand subconsciously to pull down her hat, the wind was nipping at the tops of her ears. But her hands fell short, a ghost step.

“Hey.”

Willow turned around, noticing the absence of earphones in her ears, as well as the lack of a hat on her head. _A break in the routine._

“Hey” the voice shouted again, and Willow made out a figure in the distance. “Willow is it?”

It was the blonde girl, her pace slightly faster, a bag in one hand (she guessed it must be Friday already) and a familiar-looking hat in the other.

“You left your hat” the girl said, a noticeable blush in her cheeks “Abby s-said it was yours anyway” Willow was slightly surprised to hear her say Abby’s name, though she supposed the girl spent as much time there as she did. She could see the figure of Abby in the shop window just behind the girl; raising her hand in a small wave and a smirk. _Of course it was Abby’s doing._ She guessed tomorrow had to come someday.

“It’s mine yeah thank you” Willow said, taking the hat from the girl’s outstretched hand. There was a minute of silence with only the cars and the receding frost on the pavement. “I’m sorry I don’t know your name” Willow said, hoping to God her cheeks were not starting to match her red hair.

“It’s Tara” The girl said.

Tara. It suited her. It felt fairy-like and soft, but with enough earth to ground it. Maybe Willow was over-thinking it. On second thoughts she was definitely over-thinking it.

“Hi Tara, I’m Willow” Willow said outstretching her hand, dropping the hat again in the process, “Oh shit sorry”

“No worries” Tara said, picking the hat off the floor again, “Here why don’t I just put it on your head” she said, gesturing towards Willow. Willow bent down allowing Tara to place the hat on her head, in a way that felt far more intimate in some sort of way, and Willow tried hard not to make some kind of metaphor about warmth in the cold air.

Willow smiled, lit up slightly by the grin on Tara’s face, her blonde hair flowing in the wind in unison with her tiny little snowflake earrings. “Thanks again,”

“I see you in the shop a lot.” Tara said, and Willow saw her head tilt slightly towards her bag, a splash of a blush across her cheeks (though it could be the cold, Willow told herself, it didn’t mean anything)

“I see you too. I come here most days, I work around the corner.” Willow said with a vague gesture.

“Really where?” Tara said, shifting her bag onto her arm, as if staking her position in the pavement, deepening her foot a little more. _She intends to stay, Willow thought, she’s settled in for a conversation._

“Umm at the editorial firm, on the top two floors of the office buildings.”

“You’re an editor?”

“Of sorts” Willow blushed, “and you?”

“I work at the coffee shop down the street, for now I guess.” (What Willow wouldn’t find out for some time was that ‘for now’ had been two years, which was approximately 23 months longer than Tara had intended, what Willow also wouldn’t learn till later was that Tara wasn’t a barista but a writer, that was too personal for a casual pavement-encounter).

“Oh that’s cool, I’ve always wanted to know how to make cappuccino.” Willow smiled (and Tara was taken back by how her face could light up)

“It grows old,” Tara laughed, wrapping her scarf a little tighter around her neck. The pair shifted on their feet. “Which way are you walking?” Tara asked (her eyes only slightly giving away the absence of a casual-ness.)

“That way, down Rose Lane,” Willow said,

“Me too! Mind if I walk with?” Tara smiled.

“Not at all.”

~

“So this is me.” Willow said gesturing towards her (falling-down-in-need-of-a-good-paint) gate, feeling her arm brush against Tara’s sleeve, suddenly aware of how close she and Tara had been walking, how close her hand had been to brushing Tara’s.

“Wow already, I guess t-time flies huh?” Tara said, looking down towards the floor.

“Yeah” Willow said, meaning it, the glowing light of the-potential-first-day-of-spring reflecting of her front window, and a similar spark of hope starting to form for Willow. She liked Tara, she _really_ liked Tara, _in fact…_ she started to feel her face moving closer towards Tara’s a small smile forming on her lips. 

A bang.

Willow turned around to see her cat, knocking her vase off the windowsill, staring her down as if in a cowboy showdown. He tilted his head slightly to the side, banging his paw against the window.

“And that’s my cue” Willow laughed, turning to open the gate, “I’ll see you around?” she said, her voice faltering a little.

“Of course.” Tara said, smiling, waiting till Willow was firmly in the house, before turning on her heel and heading back home in the other direction (which Willow wouldn’t find out was another way for some weeks, at which point she would fine it cute.)

At which point the rain started to fall, splashing heavily against the pavement. Tara laughed. So maybe it wasn’t the first day of spring, but it was the first day of something.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as aforementioned three chapters of this are already published on a separate site so I'm moving them over here this week, so here is the next instalment. Hope you enjoy it!

Fog creeped over the skyline as the rain spattered against the top floor window. So it hadn’t been the first day of spring. _April showers bring May flowers._ Willow watched the rain trails on the big open windows (light was necessary for an office – it kept the workers optimistic). And Willow _was_ feeling optimistic, which had _absolutely nothing_ to do with Tara. Not at all. A small smile crept across her lips.

“Thinking about someone were we?” Faith said, her arms resting against the top of Willow’s cubicle. Willow blushed, “Oh god, you were!” Faith smirked, punching Willow lightly on the arm, “You have to tell me!” she said, attracting a few glances from the people around Willow (and a small eyebrow raise from _the big boss_ Karen). “About those papers” Faith coughed, placing a pile of paper on Willow’s desk and rolling over a desk chair.

“There’s nothing to tell” Willow said, shaking her head and starting to type on her computer again.

“Nonsense” Faith said, twirling Willow’s chair to face her, “who is she?”

“No-one”

“I will sit here till you tell me, Will, you know I will” Faith grinned.

“I don’t think Karen would appreciate that” Willow said, spying the woman looking over her succulent plant to the top of their two heads over the divider.

“Screw her, this is important, do you know how long I’ve waited for Willow-gossip? You’ve been hearing about every dead-beat guy or gal I’ve encountered and yet all year you’ve been here cloaked in mystery.”

“If by mystery you mean non-getting-any then yep.”

“Stop steering the conversation! So this girl?” Faith leaned closer.

“You know the girl from the bookshop?” (Willow had told Faith about the-bookshop-girl one particularly drunk night in a local bar. (and had later remembered using words like ‘radiant’ and ‘goddess’ and had cringed so hard her cheeks hurt)

“Always”

“Well her, we talked and she walked me home. That was it.” Willow said, trying to stop the smile from creeping onto her face.

“You’re smitten…” Faith rolled her eyes, Willow’s face slowly turning the colour of her dark pink blazer, “You can’t stop smiling! You have to see her again!” (Faith had become real optimistic about relationships since meeting her girlfriend, which was both refreshing and annoying)

“That’s the plan.” Willow said, looking at the floor.

“Ah when? What’s her name?”

“Tara.” Willow furrowed her brow, “And I don’t know.” She paused, looking Faith in the eye “Should I know??”

“No it’s fine we can work this out, where does she work?”

“The coffee place down the street,”

“Great! Well we can…”

“Faith shouldn’t you be getting back to your desk?” Karen glared, a stern look on her face.

“Of course.” Faith said, raising her eyebrows and moving across the room. “Later” she mouthed, grinning.

~  
The clock hands turned on the wall and the office clock continued to hum out radio 1 (for some reason the only radio station anyone could settle on – although Willow sensed that nobody really enjoyed it), and the rain continued to splatter against the window. The city really did look pretty in the rain, the grey matching the buildings and everything smudging together, clouds and rain and fog like a painting. Everything was harsher in the sunlight, and besides summer and spring just made Willow want to be back home, sat in a wheat field with a book in her _idyllic_ childhood scenery (which was always more idyllic in memory), or out in the garden with Captain Jack Sparrow (the cat) on her knee. Yes, the rain suited her fine.

Karen stood up, stretching her back slightly, and staring out the window (the printer still whirring in the background like always.)

“I think it’s time for a coffee run don’t you?” (There was a collective murmur from the office, the coffee run was a key part of the _routine)_

“I think it’s Willow turn” Faith said, winking in her direction. Willow went bright red.

_She works at that coffee place, down the road._

Faith sure knew how to play the game, Willow sighed.

“Willow it is then”

And that was how she found herself, slightly drenched from the rain (which was only pretty when you remembered an umbrella), holding a list of complicated drinks and standing face-to-face with Tara, again.

~

“W-Willow?” Tara exclaimed, taking in her wet-through hair and bedraggled appearance, a small grin appearing on her face, “forget your umbrella?”

“Something like that”

Someone else in the queue sighed and Tara rolled her eyes ever so slightly, invoking a small giggle from Willow.

“What can I do you for?”

“Huh?” Willow said,

“W-what can I get you?” Tara said,

“Oh this might take a while,” Willow said, placing the order pad down on the counter and grimacing slightly,

The man in the black trench coat behind her sighed even louder and looked at his watch.

“Trying to feed a circus?” Tara laughed,

“Just the office.”

Tara smiled, lingering a little too long on Willow’s eyes, (Adam glared).

“I’ll get right on it.”

~

“I swear you’re making this unnecessarily complex to test me” Tara said, placing the final soy-cream double macchiato with 2% foam down on the counter.

“It’s Patrice I promise, I just drink regular cappuccino.” Willow said,

“Of course it’s Patrice” Tara rolled her eyes, “and noted.” She smirked. “That’s $35.50”

Willow pulled out the card her boss had given her, and placed a couple of coins from her purse in the tip jar on the counter.

“Thanks” Tara said, “I’ll see you around?” The man in the black trench coat sighed so hard that Willow feared if he sighed any louder the establishment might just tumble to the floor. _I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down._ She laughed a little as he tapped his watch (again.)

“I better see you around” Willow smiled, as she picked up the tray of drinks, “and thanks again.”

“Take an umbrella this time!” Tara called, gesturing towards the umbrella stand by the front door. Willow grinned,

“Noted.”

~

Willow fell back into her office chair, running a hand through her slightly-wet-and-straggly hair, and placing her newly-acquired black umbrella at the foot of her desk, the steam from her cappuccino curling against the background of the rain outside. She could feel its warmth radiating through her hands as she stared at her computer screen with a sigh, (and the printer was still whirring slightly, and Faith was grinning at her across the room (her sleeves somehow pushed even further up her arms) trying to get her attention, she just hoped she wasn’t blushing too hard.)

She sighed, turning back to the screen, but out of the corner of her eye she noticed something scrawled on the cup,

_Willow. Call me. 07674438567._

She smiled, taking a sip of her cappuccino and returning to work. Screw pathetic fallacy, rain was working for Willow today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to comment/leave kudos, it helps a lot!


	3. Chapter 3

“You’re going on that date tonight?” Faith said, her legs swung over the arm of her sofa, a bowl of popcorn balanced on her stomach.

“Yeah” Willow said. She was perched on a bar stool in Buffy and Faith’s kitchen, her fingers clinging to the edge of the stool as Buffy tried to put her makeup on. Willow didn’t like to admit it but she was kind of hopeless when it came to this kind of thing, it was all she could normally do to brush her hair and make sure her clothes weren’t wrinkled, especially in the morning (Willow was not a morning person).

“You nervous?” Faith said, getting up off the sofa and walking into the kitchen.

“You can’t tell?” Willow said, laughing nervously, trying to keep her eyes open as Buffy applied her mascara.

“It’ll all be great” Faith said, wrapping her arms around Buffy’s waist and planting a kiss on her cheek.

“Faith you’re making it smudge!” Buffy said, laughing.

If Willow was being honest maybe the Buffy-will-you-please-do-my-makeup had been a bit of a cover-up for Buffy-and-Faith-will-you-please-spend-time-with-me-before-the-date-because-I’m-hella nervous. Just being around them settled her a bit, she didn’t think you could find a more chilled out, casual person than Faith, and Buffy and Faith’s place always felt homely to Willow (despite the utter lack of homely features; in reality it was just furniture in an empty room and a few boxes, and the endless echo of _onedaywewillgetroundtoitIpromise)_

“There you go!” Buffy said, standing back as if admiring her work. “All done”

“Beautiful!” said Faith, “You’ll be great Kid” she said, punching Willow on the shoulder.

“I’m older than you!” Willow said indignantly.

“Nah you’re like our little baby,” Buffy laughed, “like proud parents sending you off the prom”

“Before you know it she’ll be graduating college” Faith grinned.

“You guys are insane” Willow said, smoothing her skirt as she stood up. “But I look ok?” Buffy rolled her eyes for the seventeenth time that night, “You look amazing, it’ll be fine, I promise.” She pulled Willow in for a hug, “Now go out and get her tiger.”

“Tiger?” Faith raised her eyebrows.

“I don’t know it seemed appropriate.”

* * *

Willow was stood outside the cinema and Tara was approximately six and a half minutes late. Willow knew this because she had checked the time on her phone. Fifteen times to be exact. If she was counting, approximately twenty other people had entered the cinema and three had come out ( _A puzzle; iftherearetwentypeopleonthebusandthreecomeoffandonegetsonehowmanyareleft?)_ And she was sure each and every one of them had looked at her (though they probably hadn’t even noticed). She didn’t know what to do with her hands. She saw one guy meet a date and he had brought flowers, a beautiful pink and yellow bouquet of flowers. She hadn’t thought about flowers. She hadn’t known she should have brought flowers. Were flowers etiquette? But then where would she have put them. Oh god. She looked at her phone again. Approximately seven minutes late. Oh god what if she didn’t come. Willow felt her face go red. To say she was nervous was an understatement, she was sure you could hear her heartbeat across the other side of the city, a calling siren for misfortune.

The cinema was an old one on the corner of Fillmore Street, _art-deco,_ with that classic aesthetic look. It was a beautiful place to be. Normally it reminded Willow of History and Art and Film and Home but right now, she could only focus on the slight shake in her hands and the pounding of her heart.

 And just at that moment where Willow’s nerves started to teeter from jitters to panic, Tara turned the corner, her hair down in a way Willow had only seen a few times, the light hitting in the right places, reminding Willow of the way that rivers reflect light on a warm day, sort of slow and soft, like chalk across paper, smudging. Willow felt her heart skip a little bit (what a cliché) and her lips involuntarily turn upwards into a grin. Tara wore long earrings than on a second look appeared to be feathers, and a long denim skirt with a flowered blouse. The weather was starting to get a little warmer and Willow was reminded of how she’d only ever really seen Tara in her long trench coat, in snatches and peeks through the book shelf. This felt a little like a new chapter. Spring: the birth of the new.

“Hi” she said, hearing her own voice faltering a little.

“Hey, good to see you” Tara said, producing a bunch of daisies from behind her back, “I got you these.” _Damn. Flowers. So they were etiquette. Why was she always so far out of the loop?_

“Thanks,” Willow said, taking the flowers, “I feel like such an idiot, I didn’t bring anything.”

“It’s fine, I know Daisies aren’t like t-traditional flowers but I thought they were pretty – especially on a day like today.”

The air was warm but with a slight breeze, _spring._

“Shall we go in?” Willow said, resisting the urge to take Tara’s hand. It was too early for that. That she at least knew.

* * *

 

The film they were watching was reasonably old and in French, and was based on a book Tara said she had read (to which Willow had to resist the urge to say; I know I saw you buy it.) It was slow paced (as most French films are), but seemed to have a sort of beautiful quality, a possession of a small bit of magic, a spark. Willow didn’t know what it was, maybe it was simply the romance of the French language going to her head, or maybe it was the atmosphere at the art deco cinema. (But when Willow watched the film back at a later date alone, she saw none of the magic she saw that night – which lead her to believe that maybe the magic had nothing to do with what was playing on the screen but rather the girl sat next to her, (and their hands which were inching closer and closer)). She felt her eyes drifting from the screen and was instead watching Tara’s face, the small twitching of her lip, the little glow in her eyes.

“Uh, Willow” Tara whispered, startling her slightly.

“Yeah”

“You’re supposed to be watching the film, not me” Tara grinned, and Willow blushed so hard she could only thank god that it was too dark for Tara to see the extent. Instead she only laughed slightly under her breath, feeling her hand brush against Tara’s (which by the end of the film would be entwined in her own.)

* * *

 

“Can I walk you home?” Tara said, her hand still entwined in Willow’s (in a move neither of them were directly addressing)

“Only if it’s on your way home.”

“Of course.” (A white lie couldn’t hurt, Tara thought, and beside she didn’t want it to end (oh god another cliché), she wanted to hold Willow’s hand for as long as possible (and how could that be a sin.))

* * *

 

“And he just started singing?!” Willow said, a small ripple of laughter going through her.

“Absolutely, a café full of people, me rushing around at our busiest time, and there he is atop of the table, belting out a tune.”

“That’s so weird, do you know why?”

“That’s the best part –“ Tara laughed, her whole face lighting up, “Apparently he was part of a flash mob, but he was in the wrong café,”

“Nooo”

“Yup he was supposed to be in the one on 34th”

“Oh god – that’s gotta be so embarrassing.”

“I’ve never seen anybody so red.” Tara smiled, as the pair came to a stop outside Willow’s gate, Tara swinging around to face her. “I’ve had a really nice time” she said,

“Me too.” Willow said. There a beat of silence. Oh god etiquette. Was she supposed to kiss her? Is that what Tara would expect, is that what she’d want? Oh god Willow knew she wanted to, but she was so rusty when it came to dating, in fact rusty probably didn’t cover it, her previous experience consisted of kisses in corn fields when they thought no one was looking. Oh god. What to do. What to –

and then Tara was kissing her, her lips soft and chaste and tasting vaguely of peaches, just long enough for Willow to be surprised before she pulled away.

“Was that okay?” Tara said, looking a bit bashful.

“It was nice.” Willow said, leaning down to kiss her again, longer this time, their lips moving together, it felt soft and nice and – bang!

Willow turned to see her cat again, his head tilted slightly to the side, banging his paw against the window. Man he sure did know how to pick his moments. Tara laughed,

“Somebody wants your attention”

“Always” Willow smiled, unable to draw her eyes away from Tara’s.

“So I’ll see you again?”

“Of course” Willow said, swinging open the gate, and unlocking the door with a final wave towards Tara (who waited till she was out of sight once more to turn the opposite way).

* * *

 

There were five text messages on Willow’s phone, all of which were from Buffy and Faith.

_Good luck on the date_

_How’s it going?_

_Don’t forget to call me I want to know exactly how it went._

_Every. Single. Detail._

_Did you kiss? Was it great? Ahh._

And then from Faith…

_Ignore Buffy she seems to think she’s the dedicated best friend in a romcom lol, she’s so excited I swear I’m going to have to restrain her._

_Still hope it goes well for you._

Willow smiled, settling onto her sofa, pulling _Captain_ Jack Sparrow (the cat) onto her knee and dialing Buffy and Faith’s number.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please feel free to leave kudos/comments


End file.
